Support
by Suspicious Popsicle
Summary: Flynn could be incredibly needy when he got sick. The result of having grown up—at least for a while—with parents, Yuri supposed. He repressed a smile. Annoying as he could be, he'd never been able to deny Flynn anything when he was sick. He would probably wind up spending the rest of the day adding on and taking off blankets, fetching soup, and singing silly old children's songs.


A/N: I'd been planning to write something along these lines for a while now, actually. Originally, it was supposed to be cute and a little silly. Then, I got a prompt from isumiilde on tumblr and...it sort of got away from me. I don't even know what happened. ._. Sorry.

Listed as hurt/comfort, but it's Yuri's special brand of comfort.

Pairing: sort of vaguely fluri, but it ain't fluffy

Warnings: mention of grievous injury

Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story are from _Tales of Vesperia_ and do not belong to me.

* * *

It wasn't wholly surprising to find that Flynn wasn't at his desk when Yuri climbed through the window of his state room. He'd talked often enough about his meetings with Ioder and the council that Yuri figured he was simply off working someplace else. He circled the room, looking briefly over books and what few knickknacks Flynn had allowed to accumulate over the past few years. A huge map of Terca Lumireis filled half of one wall, and Yuri walked his fingers over the distance between Zaphias and Dahngrest. It had been a long time since he'd returned to the capital.

Turning away from the map, he flipped through some of the papers on the desk. It was all very boring with Flynn in charge. No more world domination plans for the empire. He smiled crookedly to think that he was still half-suspicious that they might try even _with_ Flynn in power. Those days were in the past, though. Slowly but surely, things were getting better. So long as he and Flynn remained vigilant, the world would continue to improve.

Yuri took up pacing the room once more. He wished Flynn would hurry up and get back. Brave Vesperia was only passing through on the way to a job. He had less than a day before he would be gone again. His circuit took him past the door to Flynn's bedroom. It had been left slightly ajar, and he paused to peer inside. There, sitting up in his bed, attention focused on a sheaf of papers in hand, was Flynn. He looked a bit battered, having apparently gotten out into the field for some sort of skirmish recently, but it didn't look like enough to have kept him in bed past noon. Wondering what was going on, Yuri caught a whiff of fever on the air and froze where he stood. He hated it when Flynn got sick.

He hadn't thought Flynn had noticed him, but his old friend spoke up without lifting his eyes from the papers.

"I know you're there, Yuri. I heard you rummaging around in my office. Don't think you can just sneak away."

"Damn."

Fixing a smirk in place, he stepped into Flynn's sickroom. The air was stagnant, permeated by a subtle, unsettling smell of sweat and illness. He left the door wide open to take advantage of the breeze from the large state room window. Crossing to the balcony doors, he opened them as well, welcoming in the fresh air.

"How is it I just know you aren't only doing a bit of light reading?"

"It's a field report. Just because I've got a slight fever doesn't mean I can ignore what's going on with the Knights."

Yuri frowned. If it was only a 'slight fever' he wouldn't be in bed. He kept a few steps' distance, watching, waiting for the demands to start. Flynn could be incredibly needy when he got sick. The result of having grown up—at least for a while—with parents, Yuri supposed. He repressed a smile. Annoying as he could be, he'd never been able to deny Flynn anything when he was under the weather. He would probably wind up spending the rest of the day adding on and taking off blankets, fetching soup, and singing silly old children's songs.

Flynn's gaze snapped up from the page suddenly, and Yuri found it an effort to keep his expression unconcerned. His eyes were over-bright, and his face was the same pallid gray as the sky just before dawn. There was something different from the usual fever symptoms about him. Yuri hoped it was nothing more than the fading scratches and bruises marring his face and hands.

"I haven't seen you in a while. Is guild work keeping you out of trouble?" He smiled, and the sight of it provided some small relief.

"Depends on what you mean. We're on our way to go fight a monster nest that's been plaguing Aurnion since late spring."

The smile faded and Flynn looked back down at his papers. "Be careful. There have been a lot of reports lately of particularly vicious monster attacks. The population seems to have grown rather alarmingly."

"Tell me about it." Giving up on hanging back, he took a seat on the edge of the bed with a little bounce.

Flynn winced. "You might want to keep your distance. I'd hate for you to get sick, as well."

"Wow, you really aren't doing so well, huh?"

He leaned closer, slipping a hand beneath Flynn's bangs to rest the backs of his fingers against his forehead. His skin was much too warm, and damp with sweat. Flynn brushed his hand aside.

"I'm going to be fine. Why don't you pull up a chair and tell me what you've been up to these past few months?"

Well, that was a little more like it. Yuri grinned at him. "Want me to fluff your pillows for you?"

"My pillows are fine, thank you. Now, get off my bed."

* * *

Flynn drifted off while Yuri was talking about the new town that was being founded not far from the ruins of Yormgen. Yuri took the papers out of his hands and set them safely aside on the nightstand. He pulled up the covers and tried to arrange the pillows just a little more comfortably without waking him. Sweat had begun sticking Flynn's hair to his skin, and Yuri felt his forehead again only to find that he was warmer than before.

There was fresh water in a pitcher on Flynn's dressing table and a clean cloth folded beside the basin. Yuri wet the cloth and wrung it out, then carefully mopped the sweat from Flynn's brow, cheeks, and neck. Gentle as he was, Flynn still should have woken up, but he only stirred, discomfort creasing his face. Yuri was debating on whether or not he ought to seek out the palace physician when Sodia entered, saving him the trouble.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Visiting. How long has he been sick?"

"The Commandant is being well looked after by the best doctor in the capital. You've no reason to worry..._or_ to stick around."

"Sheesh, message received. I've got to be going, anyway."

Two steps away from the bed, and he paused to look back at Flynn. He had the strangest urge to ask Sodia to send word if his fever got worse. At best, such a request would be a waste of breath. Besides, he didn't have any real reason to be worried. It was just a fever. Flynn'd gone through plenty of those as a kid. He'd be fine.

"If he gets any worse, bring Estelle here."

"I don't need you telling me how best to look out for the Commandant."

He took a good look at her and nodded, satisfied. Her gaze was locked on Flynn. Grudge or no, she would do what was best for him. Yuri left quietly, telling himself that everything would be back to normal on his next visit.

* * *

Were he in any frame of mind to pay attention to such things, Yuri could have admitted that the imperial palace in the center of Zaphias was beautiful in the light of the setting sun. Its sparkling white stone was tinted pinkish orange and its shadows were deep and soft. It wasn't the contrast of light and shadow that interested him, however. All he wanted was to get up the tower and into Flynn's room as quickly as possible. Since leaving only a few days ago, he hadn't been able to shake off the feeling that something was not right with Flynn. There had been something about how he'd been so quiet, something about the smell of the room. Yuri was certain that something was wrong, he could feel it in his gut, a nauseous roiling that had him scaling the wall as fast as he could. He wanted very badly to be wrong, to come face to face with Flynn at his desk, a frown crossing his face and a harsh word for Yuri's having entering like a thief ready on his lips.

The chair at Flynn's desk was empty. The tiny hope that maybe he'd only stepped out for dinner was quashed by the smell of sickness lingering faintly in the air. Grimly, he hurried into Flynn's bedroom, berating himself for having ignored his instincts.

The stench of the room hit him first. There was something more than just unhealthiness in the air. It smelled almost like blood and something else...something...something bad. Breathing shallowly, he hurried through the gloom to the bedside. Flynn was a shock of blonde hair peeking out from a mound of rumpled covers. Yuri could see him shivering. He was reaching out to pull the blanket away and feel his friend's forehead before he'd even set his sword aside. There was a brief flash of blue as Flynn momentarily opened his eyes. Hard to tell with the quick glimpse and the dim light, but it hadn't looked like his gaze had focused.

"Yuri..." His voice was little more than a sigh.

"You're roasting. Aren't you supposed to have a doctor? Who's looking after you?"

"Sent them away." He curled tighter in on himself. "Is there...water?"

Glancing around, he spotted Flynn's untouched lunch on the nightstand. There was a half full glass of water and a pitcher as well. He held out the glass to Flynn.

"Here."

Cautiously, one hand emerged from the blankets. The glass shook so alarmingly in Flynn's grip that Yuri steadied it for him. His friend didn't even sit up, just tilted his head a little and took tiny sips. Water dribbled down his face and onto the pillow. He didn't open his eyes the entire time.

"Sit up."

Shaking his head, Flynn tried to push the glass away. He was so weak that his hand simply slipped down over Yuri's and was hidden away again beneath the blanket.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

"Not hungry."

Yuri swore. "Wait here." Stupid. Where was he going to go like that?

He rushed back through the state room and flung open the door. A knight was on duty in the hall, presumably in case Flynn needed anything. The slacker might have checked, rather than loitering around holding up the wall.

"Get down to the kitchen and bring up some soup, porridge, I don't care. Anything that's easy to eat. And a fresh pitcher of water." The knight stared blankly until Yuri took another step toward him, shouting, "Now!"

The man finally scampered off, and Yuri returned to Flynn's side. The room was suffocating. Just as he had on his last visit, he opened up the balcony doors. This time, Flynn protested.

"Yuri, it's f-freezing." He pulled the covers over his head.

"It reeks in here. The air's bad. You won't get better like this."

"I'm...cold." The blankets were shaking with the shivers that wracked him. "I n-need...my coats."

"You'll have to come out if you want to put them on."

"Top of...the b-blankets."

Yuri ransacked his wardrobe, pulling out every coat or cloak he could find. He flung them over Flynn, not sure they were going to do any good if the multitude of blankets already piled up weren't helping.

"There. You've got more layers. Let me have the blanket underneath all the others. It probably needs a wash." If Flynn's forehead was any indication, it was probably soaked in sweat.

As he started to pull back the pile, Flynn jerked, grabbing the covers with as much strength as he could muster.

"No! I just...need...some hot tea."

"I'll send your flunkie for some if he doesn't have sense to bring it when he comes back." He shifted restlessly from foot to foot for a moment before coming to a decision. "Sit up. You've got food coming and I need you to be able to actually eat some of it."

"Not hungry."

"You need to eat."

Yuri yanked the sheet down to his chest and Flynn flinched. He resisted as best he could as Yuri tried to drag him into a sitting position, though he'd have lost had he not suddenly cried out in pain. The sound stopped Yuri cold, and he let Flynn sag shaking back onto the mattress.

"What—?" Remembering the scrapes and bruises, he wondered if there'd been a much worse wound that he hadn't seen. Something that would take longer to heal. Something that might account for the smell of bad blood that hung heavy in the air.

"Yuri, _please_! Please...! Please..." He buried his face in the pillow, shaking his head.

"I'll...get your tea."

Just as he started to turn away, Flynn's hand shot out and closed around his sleeve. For the first time, Flynn's eyes were open and focused on him, though he seemed to be struggling to manage it.

"Don't go."

"You said you wanted tea."

With a sigh, Flynn sank down again. He looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept for weeks. His fingers trembled and seemed barely able to keep curled around Yuri's sleeve.

"I want tea," he mumbled. "Don't go."

"Someone has to get the tea, Flynn. Do you want it, or not? I'll only be a few minutes."

"Don't go."

Yuri sighed. "All right. Do you want me to pull up a chair, like last time?"

Flynn nodded. His hand fell limp as Yuri dragged a chair up to the bedside. He was just settling down when Sodia came striding in.

"Yuri Lowell, you are to leave _immediately_! The Commandant is in need of rest."

"He's in need of a lot more than that. Where have you been?"

Her eyes flickered away from his. "Commandant Flynn ordered us-"

"He ordered you out, and you all just trotted off like obedient soldiers. Good thing I was never all that good at taking orders. You want to help? Bring up a pot of hot tea. And have someone send a basin of fresh water and some clean cloths."

She hesitated but, unlike the other soldier, she didn't have to be told twice. He'd been right that she would put Flynn's well-being over her own pride. He dropped back down into the chair, angry at the knights for failing their leader, at Flynn for getting so sick, at himself for not having paid closer attention, at the whole damn world. Fidgeting, staring restlessly around the room, he caught sight of the balcony and remembered suddenly that Repede would be waiting for him.

As soon as he started for the doors, Flynn was reaching out for him again, though he still wasn't actually opening his eyes.

"Yuri, don't—"

"Relax. I'm just going to let Repede know what's going on."

The twilight air of the capital was blessedly sweet after having been so long in Flynn's room, and Yuri took several deep breaths as he leaned on the railing. Looking down into the gardens below, he whistled sharply and, moments later, Repede emerged from between a couple bushes and sat down to look up at him.

"Flynn's not doing well. Let Ba'ul know so that Judy and Karol won't stick around waiting for me. I'll catch up when I can. Come on up when you get a chance."

Repede barked and disappeared into the darkness. Yuri didn't worry about how he would make it up to Flynn's room. His partner would find a way. With a sigh and one last, deep breath, he turned to go back inside.

Yuri didn't get much sleep the rest of that night. He sat up with Flynn for several hours, coaxing him to swallow a few mouthfuls of soup, wiping the sweat from his face and neck, and singing to him when Flynn asked. Something about singing had always helped his friend get to sleep when he was sick. It didn't seem to do much for the quality of that sleep, but Yuri tried his best. He sang until he was certain that Flynn had drifted off, and he sang to him when the fever left him tossing and turning, though he couldn't tell if it did any good.

Around midnight, the knight who had been stationed at the door came hesitantly to get Yuri's attention, mumbling something about a dog. Repede trotted in past him, and Yuri dismissed the knight without a thought. The man seemed glad enough to go.

Fondly, gratefully, Yuri scratched between Repede's ears. It had been a long night, and it wasn't over yet. Repede licked his hand, then stretched to sniff Flynn's face. He whined and walked around to jump up on the bed and curl up at Flynn's back. Watching him, Yuri arched a brow.

"I guess at least one of us should actually get some decent sleep."

Some time around dawn, he did finally drift off, slumped in the chair. It seemed like no time at all passed before he was woken by the quiet clink of porcelain as a maid cleared away the previous day's barely-touched food and left a cart laden with breakfast dishes in their place. There was porridge for Flynn, of course, but there was also eggs and sausage, scones, and fresh fruit as well as a steaming pot of tea and a cool pitcher of water. There was even a bowl of food for Repede. Yuri caught a glimpse of Sodia peeking in from the state room and felt a moment's tired gratitude. Now, if she could only keep to taking care of Flynn's official duties until he was out of the woods, they'd get along just fine.

Yuri hadn't stopped to eat last night, and he was ravenous. He wolfed down his food and could've polished off Flynn's porridge, as well. He stood up and stretched, wincing as his back popped. Fresh air from the balcony called to him, but he leaned over Flynn to check his temperature first. He very nearly snatched his hand back from the heat.

"Damn." The blankets had to go. He was baking. "Probably need a wash anyway," Yuri muttered.

He grabbed the sheets, bunching them up to be sure he had a hold on all the layers, and turned to haul the bundle over his shoulder, yanking it out from around and under Flynn and dragging the sheets into a pile on the floor. The smell of fever sweat sharpened, almost masking that metallic, worrisome odor. Yuri crinkled up his nose at the rumpled pile and turned back to the bed.

The world stopped moving. Everything ground to a halt, though his pulse still counted off time in his ears, rushing, thumping, thundering by. He stared at Flynn, thinking that there had been some mistake, that he was still asleep. He couldn't really be seeing...

Grimacing in his fitful sleep, Flynn curled in on himself. He wore only a nightshirt soaked through with sweat. One of his legs was drawn up nearly to his chest. The other...ended in a bandaged stump midway down his thigh.

Repede whined and the world started up again. Yuri could feel a breeze, cold against the sweat that had broken out across his skin. He heard birds and the shuffle of papers, Sodia's quiet murmur. Sodia.

He was in the state room in a heartbeat, and all it took was a glance to chase away the recruit she'd been issuing orders to. Sodia tried to stare him down, but she couldn't manage it for long. She had enough pride to wait for him to speak first.

"What happened?" His own voice sounded strange in his ears. Weak. Helpless.

"He told us not to say anything. Five days ago, when he heard your entelexia, he told us we '_shouldn't worry you_.'"

She sneered at him, at Flynn's apparent concern. Not concern. Something else. Shame, maybe. Denial. Yuri had to force himself to concentrate on her words.

"A little over a week ago, we'd been getting reports that Halure was being hassled by a pack of wolves. Flynn—Commandant Flynn—led the brigade that was to kill the monsters. I was with him." She stared down at the papers on the desk and drew a deep breath. "The monsters...they attacked us. Swarmed us as we came around a bend in the road at the foot of a hill. The Commandant's horse went down. He couldn't get out of the saddle in time."

Her voice was level, but her fists were balled on the desk and grinding against the wood. Yuri waited for her to continue.

"He still tried to fight. Of course he would. We defended him and fought off the wolves, but the damage was done. His leg had been crushed. We were still closer to Zaphias than Halure, so half of us brought him back to the palace, and the other half were sent to fetch Lady Estellise.

"She did her best, but it must not have been enough. He sent her home and the infection set in the next day. He was still fighting it when you arrived, kept insisting that it was only a fever, that he'd get better. It was only after you'd left that he finally allowed a doctor to examine him. The leg...the injury...it went bad. They had to..." She swallowed, and Yuri turned away. He didn't need her to finish.

"He's still my Commandant." Conviction strengthened her voice. "He's still the leader of the Imperial Knights. What happened doesn't change anything."

"You think you need to tell me that?" he murmured. Flynn's room was darkness and shadow in his vision. He had to go back, get him cleaned up, keep watch until the fever broke. "Could you send for some clean sheets?"

He caught her nod out of the corner of his eye and saw her leave the room. Hesitating, bracing himself against what waited for him, Yuri took a deep, steadying breath before returning to Flynn's side.

The fever was burning through his friend, leaving him shivering with chills and babbling. When he reached out to stroke Flynn's hair, Yuri noticed that his hand was shaking. No time for that right now. Flynn came first. He couldn't help wondering, however, as he went to get a clean towel and fill a wash basin from the Commandant's private bathing room, why Flynn hadn't said anything.

After Yuri had wiped the sweat from Flynn's skin and gotten him changed into a clean nightshirt, Sodia came in with a quartet of maids who rushed to change the stinking bedsheets for fresh ones as Flynn sagged, murmuring to himself, in Yuri's arms. They got him tucked back in beneath a thin cotton sheet, still feverish, but no longer burning up after the cooling wash.

Once again, Yuri and Repede were left alone with Flynn. Climbing into bed beside him, Yuri held Flynn up and managed to coax him to swallow some of the beef broth Sodia had brought up. When Flynn would take no more, Yuri set it aside. He sang quietly to Flynn and stroked his hair, repeating to himself all the while that Flynn was strong and that he would be able to overcome first the fever and, eventually, the loss of his leg.

In time, Flynn's babbling subsided, his shivers eased, and he drifted into something like a restful sleep. Yuri watched him for a long time before stripping off his vest and shirt and stretching out beside him. He rested his head on Flynn's chest, letting the strength of his heartbeat lull him to sleep.

* * *

It was two more days before Flynn's fever was gone completely. He was still weak, but he had made it through the worst of the illness. Yuri stayed with him through most of that time. Although they didn't talk about Flynn's missing leg, the subject sat heavy between them. Then, one morning as Yuri sat at the foot of the bed combing knots out of his hair, Flynn said, completely out of the blue: "It itches."

"What does?"

"My foot."

He only narrowly avoided asking which one, but, as he reached to scratch Flynn's blanket-shrouded foot, he was interrupted.

"Not that one. The other one."

Startled, Yuri looked up at Flynn's face, worried that he might have relapsed and started babbling nonsense again. Flynn wasn't flushed, however. He was staring grimly at the flat expanse of blanket where his left leg used to be.

"It's not even there anymore, but I swear I can still feel it. It itches, and I can't scratch it."

Yuri stared at the blanket, at the blank space next to Flynn's remaining leg. "Close your eyes," he said.

Flynn glanced at him, but didn't question. As soon as his eyes were shut tight, Yuri bunched up the covers until the lumpy shape looked mostly like a leg. He poked experimentally at the "foot" and, when it didn't collapse, told Flynn he could open his eyes. As Flynn looked on, he scratched the empty blanket and hoped it wasn't an empty gesture. It seemed less stupid than scratching at nothing in pursuit of a phantom itch.

"I'd accuse you of making fun of me, but I think that's actually helping."

He was quiet for a moment and then, in a sudden, furious moment of motion, he slammed his fist down right where his knee should have been. Both of them jumped at the impact.

"Damn it..." The sheet was balled up in Flynn's fist, twisted and no longer hiding anything. "Damn it!"

Yuri let him swear, let him take his rage out on the pillows and sheets. When the feathers started flying, he stood up and moved toward the balcony. He held his tongue until Flynn quieted, then:

"Done with your tantrum?"

Flynn's head whipped around to meet Yuri's gaze. "What did you say?"

"Just wondering if I ought to send for new bedclothes, or if you plan on destroying those, too."

"I lost my _leg_, Yuri!" He gestured violently at the place it should have been, then threw his arms wide. "My career is _over_, and you're asking if I'm done with my _tantrum_?"

"Get a grip. Your career isn't over. It's a minor setback."

"_A minor_—!"

"Do you honestly think you made Commandant because you're good in a fight?" He stepped forward until he was within arm's reach and tapped Flynn lightly on his head and over his heart. "You got here because of this and this. It's about who you are, not how many opponents you can beat."

"I _can't walk_, Yuri!"

"I hear they're already working on a leg for you. In the meantime, I'll get you a cane. A nice one, with a sword in it. You'll be able to chase me down and beat the hell out of me with it in no time."

Flynn gaped at him, eyes blazing. "How can you stand there making jokes?"

"You got something to say to me?" He backed up again, just a few feet, not too far, and beckoned Flynn forward. "Come on. I'll give you a free shot."

"Yuri—!"

"Hey, if you just wanna loaf around on the empire's gald, I guess that's your choice. You'll get fat like those nobles we used to make fun of."

He walked out of the room. Even knowing that Flynn wouldn't be able to come after him as quickly as he used to didn't eliminate the tingle of dread down Yuri's spine as he turned his back on him. He had to get Flynn to wake up, though. Yuri had been watching him rise out of delirium only to sink into the doldrums over the past two days. He wasn't about to watch Flynn's fire gutter and die, no matter the circumstances.

"Yuri! Get _back_ here!"

"Make me."

"Yuri, damn you, get back in here! I'm not finished talking to you!"

"Come talk to me in here."

"Do you expect me to _crawl_?"

"You do, and I won't listen to a word you say. Come take your shot at me. You deserve it."

Flynn fell quiet, and Yuri strained his ears, listening. Finally, _thankfully_, he heard the rustle of bedsheets. There was a thump—Flynn's foot hitting the floor—and a shuffling noise. More rustling cloth, more shuffling.

"Come on..." he breathed the words quiet as a believer's prayer.

A thump. Rustle, shuffle, thump. A grin blossomed over Yuri's face as he listened to the sounds of Flynn coming after him. He had to force his expression back into seriousness. Flynn wouldn't appreciate it if he thought for a second that Yuri might be laughing at him.

The sounds from the bedroom paused, and Yuri pictured the few feet of empty space between the bed—where Flynn would at least have a handhold—and the doorway. He stepped back in just as Flynn hopped away from the bed.

Weakened by fever and his poor appetite, it wasn't surprising that Flynn's knee buckled. Yuri was there to catch him before he hit the floor, and he had barely gotten them steadied before Flynn's fist slammed into his cheek. He staggered, but didn't go down.

"You _ass_!"

"Oh, come on. I knew you could manage it."

"Manage _what_? I _managed_ to drag myself out of bed. The moment I let go, I fell!"

"I don't remember seeing you hit the floor." He peered around Flynn to where Repede sat watching. "Did you see him fall down?" Repede barked. "See?"

Flynn glared balefully at him, but Yuri met the look evenly and bumped their foreheads together.

"Hey. Who knows you as well as I do? No one."

"I think I know myself—"

"Not like I do. Shut up. If I say you can do it, then you can do it. I won't set you up to fall, and I won't help you pity yourself."

The moment he started to let go and draw away, Flynn's hands clenched around his shoulders. Yuri took a step back, and Flynn swayed, refusing to let go.

"You've never been afraid of standing on your own before."

Something in Flynn's expression changed, a flicker of some emotion too quick for Yuri to grasp. His grip eased.

"Yes, I have," Flynn said quietly.

His hands slid hesitantly off Yuri's shoulders, down his arms. He was standing straighter as he came closer to letting go. Just before the connection between them was broken, Yuri curled his fingers around Flynn's and let their arms fall between them. Flynn stood on his own, hand-in-hand with Yuri and swaying slightly for several long moments before his reserves were drained and his knee buckled once more. Again, Yuri was there before he hit the floor, sliding Flynn's arm around his shoulders and holding him up.

"You're gonna be fine, Commandant." He started to turn them back to the bed, but Flynn shook his head with a sigh.

"I've spent enough time in bed." He nodded toward the balcony. "I want to feel the sunshine."


End file.
